


Four Kids Series

by avaalons



Category: American (US) Actor RPF, Chris Evans (actor) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Children, Drama, F/M, Family, Flashbacks, Fluff, Marriage, Storytime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2018-12-11 04:58:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11707296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avaalons/pseuds/avaalons
Summary: A series of snapshots as 'you' and Chris navigate being famous, being married, being parents and still living to tell the tale at the end of the day!





	1. Just Like This

Admittedly, interviews weren’t Chris’ favourite thing but after this many years in the business, he could usually deal with them with a fair amount of patience and grace. They were just one of the less desirable aspects of the job, and he got over that a long time ago. However, just lately, he’d found his patience wearing a little thin, and again, today, he could feel that tell-tale frustration bubbling up inside him as he sat in front of this latest interviewer. If the man-bun, hoop earring, and skin tight jeans with ripped knees weren’t enough, the guy was British and kept calling him ‘mate’: it was taking all of Chris’ self control to not roll his eyes at him. Then he was getting frustrated at himself! When did he get so old and grumpy?!

Chris was about to mentally shake off this mood and attempt to be a little more friendly and open. But then came the line of questioning Chris definitely had little to zero patience for, even at the best of times.

‘So, I have to ask you, mate, how does it feel being engaged to the most beautiful woman in the world? And that’s been made official, by many magazines, many times by the way,’ the interviewer laughed at himself. As if Chris wasn’t aware of how many magazines ‘honoured’ his wife-to-be with the top spot on their 'Hottest Woman in the World’ lists.

Chris took a deep breath. Internally.

'It’s… well, I obviously know how beautiful she is so it really just confirms everything I already know. In her line of work, that sort of attention comes with the territory, especially when she walks for Victoria’s Secret. But, you know, all the hottest woman lists in the world don’t show how funny, intelligent, compassionate she is, or what a positive presence she is in my life and the lives of everyone who has the pleasure of knowing her.’

'So you managed to bag the whole package then? Does she have a sister you could talk to for me,’ he actually winked as he said this, before laughing loudly as his own joke. Again.

Chris forced a smile and a few hollow chuckles, 'Sorry dude, no sisters available.’

How much longer?

***

Chris pulled the car into park on his driveway and rested his forehead against the hands gripping the steering wheel. The day had been draining and not for the first time, Chris wondered if it was time to retire from acting. He wasn’t getting any younger, as Mr Man-Bun had inadvertently reminded him today, and he was getting married this year with hopefully a family following not too long after. Maybe it was a conversation he needed to have with you, sooner rather than later.

Heaving himself out of the driver seat, he shouldered his bag and headed for his front door. Stepping through, he tried to shake off the weird mood that had settled over him. He’d known forever how superficial his industry was; the constant references to appearances shouldn’t have bothered him so much. But he hated that your relationship was reduced to being the Hot Hollywood Couple.

'Hey babe!’ your musical voice rang lightly through the hallway from the TV room.

Chris smiled to himself, dumped his bag next to the table in the hall and walked through the open archway to his left that joined the hall and the TV room. The room was set up exactly for what you were currently doing: laying back on one of the oversized reclining couches, watching some trashy TV, snuggling with an equally laid back Dodger. You looked over the back of the couch as Chris’ footsteps approached and he looked back at you, really took you in. You had a pair of grey track shorts on and one of his softest tshirts, completely swamping your frame. Your face was scrubbed clean and hair up in a high ponytail. The ends were still damp from, Chris guessed, a fairly recent shower. The image in front of him couldn’t have been any different from the Victoria’s Secret shows, or the magazine spreads, but this was easily his favourite version of you. The one he would propose to over and over again.

Chris hopped over the back of couch, springing off one hand and landed next to you and Dodger, arm instantly snaking around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest before planting a smacking kiss on your forehead. You rested a hand against his chest and looked up at him, angling your mouth towards his, wordlessly asking for a proper kiss this time, please.

He willingly complied and you sighed contentedly, cuddling into him.

'Good day?’ you asked.

'Better now,’ Chris replied, suddenly realising just how true that was. You fell into comfortable silence and Chris pulled your legs up from the recliner so that they spread across his lap and you were perfectly tucked into his body.

'Hey Chris, you know we said we’d go out tonight?’

'Yes,’ Chris replied, elongating the vowels, like he knew what was coming.

'Well, do you mind if we just stay in instead? I’m super tired and my period started today so I kind of just want to be lazy and watch shit TV.’

'I would love nothing more than to stay in and watch shit TV with you. Do you want to order a pizza and follow it with a pint of ice cream?’ Chris smiled down at you.

'Jesus Evans, stop it with the dirty talk,’ you playfully slapped your hand against his chest, 'You know me so well.’

'I try,’ Chris honestly replied, before pressing his lips softly against yours, 'You know I love you right? And not just because you’re the most beautiful woman on earth?’

You pulled back a little to look at him properly, your brows knitting together and one of your hands cupping his cheek, 'What’s got you so serious? Everything okay?’

'Yeah, everything’s fine. I just… I love you. On the runway, on the red carpet, but also just like this.’

You looked down at yourself, slightly amused, not sure where all this was coming from but willing to humour him, 'Just like this? No make up, in my comfy shorts with holes in and a tshirt I plucked out of your laundry hamper?’

'Especially like this,’ he whispered with his forehead pressed against yours, like he was telling you a secret, 'because I don’t have to share this version of you.’

'Hey, you don’t have to share me at all…’ you were getting a little worried. Something was clearly bothering him, so you wracked your brain. Then it dawned on you.

'Have reporters been asking you about us again?’

'It doesn’t matter. I just need you to know that we’re more than our fame, you know? This is us, right here, this is real.’

You were silent for a moment, searching his eyes, your ring catching your eye in your peripheral vision. He was right, of course, this was perfectly real and it was way more than what was in magazines and on the internet. You knew that to your very core, and you knew he did too, but that sometimes, he just needed to get his thoughts out of his head and into the open.

'Babe, this is the most real thing in my entire life. I love you, with my whole heart, and when we’re not famous and we’re old and boring and just spend all our time looking after our kids and our dogs, I will still love you.’

'Always?’ He wrapped a large hand around the wrist of the hand that rested against him cheek and turned his head to kiss your palm.

'Always,’ you repeated with a firm nod, 'Okay?’

Chris breathed deeply, 'Okay.’

'Good. Now get out of your head and order us some pizza please. I’m starving.’

'Yes ma'am,’ he grinned.


	2. Oh Baby!

As you flung the sixth (or was it seventh?) dress down on to your carpet. You wanted to fling yourself down too but in your heavily pregnant state it wasn’t really possible. And you’d never get back up again. Instead, you sank wearily to your bed in your underwear and heels and out of the way of the full length mirror you were sick of looking in.

The garment bag containing Chris’ red carpet tux hung from the door to your ensuite bathroom and your heart plummeted. You were too hot, too flustered and the round ligament pain was really irritating you. Everyone kept saying ‘only a week to go’ but it felt like a lifetime and you knew, just knew, that this baby was going to be overdue. So it might only be a week until your due date but there was every chance you’d be still be cooking this kid for two weeks after that.

You leaned backwards against the sheets, your legs dangling over the edge of the mattress and, feeling like a tortoise on an upturned shell, you knew at once it had been a mistake.

‘Shit,’ you whispered, knowing you weren’t going to be able to pull yourself back up, then, rubbing a hand across your impressive belly, quickly followed your cursing with, ‘Sorry baby, don’t listen to my bad words. Mommy just got herself stuck.’

After a few futile attempts at engaging your core muscles (Ha! What were they?!), you simply flopped your arms to your sides, outstretched, and accepted your fate as a beached whale.‘

Need some help there, babe?’ Your husband’s amused voice sounded from where you knew the bedroom door was and you automatically turned your head to meet his gaze.

He was leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, just a hint of a smile on his face and that cheeky glint in his eye.Your first gut reaction was to be mad, really fucking mad, that the man that was supposed to love you would stand there laughing at your predicament, but then as you reflected on the ridiculousness of your current situation and looked at your handsome, doting husband, a laugh bubbled from between your lips.

Chris made his way over and sat down next to you, the mattress dipping under his weight. He reached behind himself and picked up your hand, linking it with his before laying down next to you, turning his face towards yours and planting a gentle kiss against your lips.

‘And what, exactly, were you trying to do?’

‘The pile of material on the floor not obvious enough? I can’t wear clothes anymore Chris. This body was not made for seams and zips and buttons and darts.’

‘I thought you were getting your stylist friend to help?’

‘I did but in the end I just told her to leave me with the dresses. I was getting too irritable and flustered getting changed over and over again so I told her to just go home before I destroyed our friendship,’ you half-joked, knowing there was a real, actual possibility that being the emotional hot mess you were at the minute could very well send her running, never to return. It was a miracle Chris was still married to you, pregnancy-zilla that you were.

‘But you don’t like anything?’

You sighed, ‘No, it’s all lovely. It’s just… none of it fits. Clothes weren’t made for beach balls to go under them as it turns out. And these stupid heels! How I am supposed to walk… Chris, I can’t go tonight. I’m sorry, I’m too stressed and hot and uncomfortable, I have nothing to wear... and I’m huge! I’m going to be such an embarrassment.’

Chris rolled towards you slightly, placing his hand that wasn’t linked with yours on your stomach.

‘Hey, come on, there’s nothing about you that is embarrassing, ever. Especially now. You’re growing a whole human in there, and he or she is all ours! If you really don’t feel up to it, you don’t have to come, but please don’t stay home just because you think you’ll be an embarrassment, because I swear to god, you are so beautiful right now and I don’t think I could imagine anything that would make me prouder than escorting my glowing, pregnant goddess of a wife down the red carpet,’ he moved his hand from your belly to your face, softly pushing a stray lock of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear.

You smiled at him, just a small one, but you were starting to feel confident once again under his gaze, ‘I want to go. It’s your last Marvel movie and I wanted to be there, at your side.’

‘Why don’t I call Ilaria?’ Chris offered up. You knew his stylist well and he thought she’d be able to help you out.

‘It’s a little short notice Chris, she’ll kill me. Plus, she dresses guys now pretty much, not massively pregnant heffers.’

Chris rolled his eyes at your self-deprecation, ‘I can ask her at least. She can only say no, right?’

You had nothing to lose and no other options so you shrugged, ‘Give her a try.’

‘Okay. How about I help you up and get you into the shower, see if we can cool you off a bit? And I’ll give Ilaria a call while you’re in there?’

You nodded, holding your arms out towards him when he stood up so Chris could tug you upright. He made to head to the bathroom but you stopped him before he could get there.

‘Babe?’

He spun on his heel, looking at you in question.

You held a foot out to him, ‘Could you undo the straps on these torture devices of shoes please?’

***  
You took an extra-long shower, getting the water soothe your muscles and refresh you and knowing that the hair and make-up team would be arriving within the hour and thirty minutes later you were scrubbed and smooth and, most importantly, much calmer.

Pulling your bath robe on and wrapping your hair in a towel, you stepped out into your bedroom, refusing to so much as glance at the pile of fabric unceremoniously dumped on the floor. By the time you had moisturised, taking special care to rub soothing oil into the stretched skin of your stomach, and had dried your hair ready to be styled later, Chris was at the door again, announcing Ilaria’s arrival. She swept in with and array of garment bags and, to your great relief and joy, pairs of flat sandals hanging from her fingers.

‘You doing okay, hon? Let’s see what we can do to get you red carpet ready. I’m excited! I haven’t dressed for a woman in a while.’

And as Ilaria set to work, pulling out dresses from bag for you to see, you relaxed into it. Chris was right, you were pregnant, it was a perfectly natural and beautiful thing, and there was no way you could hide it, so you may as well show it off!

You glanced at Chris in the doorway and sent him a small smile of thanks. He nodded in acknowledgement and made to leave.

‘I’ll leave you ladies to it. Do you want drinks or anything?’

Illaria said she was good but you suddenly had a craving.

‘Ooh, could I have one of those lime, cucumber and mint water thingies you make me?’ You asked, needing the cool, refreshing taste of the drink Chris had invented for you when being pregnant had made you inexplicably thirsty almost constantly but getting bored of the taste of water.

‘Extra ice?’

‘Yes please. Oh, and a cookie! You’re a star and I love you.’

‘Yeah, yeah, you’re just saying that,’ Chris grinned before he left.

Ilaria launched into what she did best, showing you options and giving you choices before suggesting what she thought would work well and before you knew it, you were in a dress that you felt more than comfortable in and actually really liked. It was a deep sapphire blue, strapless with a sweetheart neckline and one chiffon shoulder strap. The skirt flowed to the floor from the waistline that sat snugly above your bump. It was lightweight and easy to move in, and with the delicate flat sandals hidden underneath, you could walk easily too.

‘How do you feel?’ Ilaria asked, surveying you from a distance and moving around you, making sure the dress fell correctly from all angles.

‘I don’t know how you did it when not even an hour ago I was sure I wouldn’t be able to leave the house at all until I finally gave birth! Thank you Ilaria, so much.’

‘No problem at all, happy to help. You look beautiful,’ Ilaria smiled, accepting the hug when you threw your arms around her, a little awkward around your size, ‘Now, let’s get you back in your robe for make-up and I’ll get this pressed.

***  
The premiere had gone well and everyone had fallen over themselves trying to make sure you were comfortable and hydrated and feeling okay, and you were. You were so glad you had made it, knowing what a bittersweet evening this was, marking the end of Chris’ long-standing involvement with Marvel. There was the hint of sadness and nostalgia in the air that marked truly the end of an era.

‘I think I know what the answer’s going to be, Evans,’ Mackie grinned at you, ‘But you coming for a few celebratory beers after this?’

‘Nah man,’ he replied, shaking his head with a smile and tucking you into his side firmly, ‘Need to get my wife and child home. They need their rest. Our car is almost here.’

‘I thought as much, and I don’t blame you. Take care of yourself, won’t you?’ Mackie told you with all the stern affectionate of a dad, pulling for a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

‘Will do Mackie, don’t you worry,’ you told him as he said his goodbyes and moved away into the crowd.

You turned to Chris and placed a hand against his chest, over the lapel of his tux jacket, ‘You can go if you want. Don’t let me stop you from having fun, I don’t mind.’

‘You kidding me? Our evenings alone together are numbered sweetheart, I want to make the most of it before our kid arrives,’ he grinned at you with a wink.

‘Jesus, how are you even looking at me and thinking of sex right now?’ You rolled your eyes but secretly, you loved how attractive he could still make you feel this far into your pregnancy.

He leant towards you, lips brushing your ear and whispering, ‘Because you’re really sexy, Mrs Evans, that’s how.’

‘Chris…’ you couldn’t help the giggle that accompanied his name, drawing out the vowel in middle to almost a whine. You might have been humongous from growing a child but you still had needs. If anything, the pregnancy hormones had turned them up to max and you needed him more than ever.

‘Car’s here,’ he muttered, glancing over your shoulder.

He helped you in to the backseat before running around to the other side and sliding in next to you, letting you lean your head against his shoulder, dropping a kiss against your hair, ‘Let’s go home.’

***  
Once home, Chris had gone to let Dodger out into the back yard for a few minutes and let him have a runaround before bed time, whereas you headed straight upstairs. You unzipped your dress and let it float to the floor, rolling your neck to try and release some of the tension gathering there. Before you could even make it to the bathroom to wash your make-up off, Chris had made his way upstairs, pulling off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. The jacket, you guessed, was slung over a chair in the kitchen.

He smiled at you as walked through the door, kicking it shut behind him and throwing the tie over the armchair in the corner of your room before swiftly shrugging out of his shirt and resting that to join his tie. He turned to find you desperately trying to get close enough to your feet to take your sandals off and immediately dropped to your feet.

‘Let me,’ he said, fingers making quick work of the ties wrapped around your ankle and slipping them off.

‘Thanks baby,’ you murmured, steadying yourself with a hand on his shoulder.

‘You tired? It’s been a long day,’ he asked, always concerned, as he stood up, hands going to his belt buckle.

You shook your head no, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. He caught your expression instantly and raised an eyebrow, ‘No? In the mood for something else, Mrs Evans?’

You responded by covering his hands with your own at his belt buckle.

‘Let me,’ you spoke softly, full of promise, parroting his words from just a few minutes ago.

‘With pleasure,’ he whispered back. He watched you pull the leather strap from the loops in his dress pants and throw it to the floor but then wasted no time in leaning forward to catch your mouth with his, hands gently drifting around your curved sides, lavishing with you with attention while you worked the button and zipper on his pants, pushing them down past his hips the moment you had them free. You pushed them until gravity could do the rest of the job and he could step out of them, forwards, edging you back towards the bed, still attached at the lips.

You had always loved the way he kissed you, like he was breathing and you were his air and he needed you to live. He would vary the pressure, teasing you, before sweeping his tongue across your lower lip and you would always, always let him in. How could you not?

‘Want me to do the work?’ Chris murmured against your lips, your skin tickling under the reverberation of his deep voice.

You nodded eagerly, thinking nothing sounded better. You did want him, more than anything, but he was right, it had been a long day, and you were lugging around what was surely going to be a seven or eight pound baby, so laying back while he properly worked you over sounded like heaven.

‘Have a seat then, sweetheart, and enjoy the show,’ he told you with a grin, leading you to sit down at the edge of the bed before stacking pillows behind you.

You’d been getting dizzy flat on your back as you progressed through your third trimester, so you’d taken to propping yourself up. It wasn’t time to lie down just yet though. Looking up at your husband with a contented sigh, Chris leaned over you, hands planted on the mattress and arms rigid, kissing you deeply again before one hand crept stealthily up your spine, and, with a practised twist of his wrist, unhooking your bra and throwing it to the side. You could feel his knee between your knees, gently nudging one of your legs further out to the side, making a v with your thighs to house him.

‘You are so, so beautiful. Do I tell you that enough?’ he asked you, one finger now trailing from your bottom lip, down your neck and past your collar bones before dipping into the valley between your breasts.

He took a detour to one side, running a tickling circuit around one nipple. Your sharp intake of breath betrayed just how turned on and sensitive you were. Being pregnant had heightened all your senses and Chris had wasted no time in working that out. There were times when you felt like you could have seriously soaked your panties through just from him kissing you below your ear.

‘More than enough. I’ve never felt as beautiful as I do with you,’ you assured him, sincerity dripping from every word.

He dipped his head, his tongue mirroring the path his finger had just taken, swirling around your nipple, while his fingers went on a journey all of their own, drifting delicately over the taut skin of your stomach before jumping to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, tracing lazy circles there. You felt languid, warm, adored.

‘Back you go baby,’ he told you, guiding you backwards gradually by the shoulders to rest against the plump cushions he had stacked up in a mountain behind you.

You sank back, giving yourself over to him completely and more than willingly. You could feel your legs being nudged open even more and you felt like you knew what was coming. He was so good to you. The anticipation was almost too much to bear and you found your hips twitching of their own accord, seeking out his touch in places you needed it more than the skin of your thighs. You heard him chuckle lightly, stopping all movement, waiting for you behave yourself and let him do his thing.

‘Don’t laugh at me Christopher, I feel ready to explode here.’

‘Sorry baby, I can’t help it. I like knowing the effect I have on you,’ he apologised, his hands resuming their work, getting closer and closer to your heat.

You whimpered, throwing an arm over your face, covering your eyes, trying to maintain some decorum, ‘Please Chris. Come on, I’m the mother of your child, please just give me this.’

There was that chuckle again, ‘Okay, sweetheart, only because you asked so nicely.’

And then, finally, thankfully, joyously, his tongue was on you, firm broad strokes running the length from your entrance to your clit. It wasn’t enough to ease the pressure completely and provide relief but each stroke of his tongue left you hopeful.

It wasn’t long before you were panting and he hooked one of your knees over his shoulder, giving him even more access when he began to lavish all his attention on your clit, knowing it was a sure fire way to get you off, quickly. He circled the tip of his tongue around it, varying speed and direction, just to tighten the coil of pleasure in your lower belly. He listened attentively, waited for the hitch in your breath, for your moans to change pitch ever so slightly, before he started sucking at the bud, your eyes shooting open in pleasure, mouth slack.

You reached down, threading your fingers into his hair, ‘Oh god, Chris. Right there, please.’

He pulled away from your quickly, ‘How many?’

You were confused momentarily and reeling from the loss of his mouth at such a pivotal moment, ‘How many… what?’

‘How many times you up for coming tonight? You can come right here against my tongue if you want, but only if you think you could come again tonight. I want to feel you coming around my dick, too.’

Jesus, he was incredible. Being pregnant had made you horny, it was true, but it had also made it harder for you orgasm multiple times. But now? Looking at him in that suit all night, feeling him winding you up, cranking you higher and higher…?

‘Yeah. Yes, do it,’ you breathed, urging him on with your fingers in his hair.

‘You sure?’

‘Chriiis,’ you whined. You just wanted his tongue back on you. You were throbbing for him.

‘I got you,’ you heard him whisper before his lips closed over your clit again and your eyes rolled back in your head.

‘Oh. Oh.’ Over and over again, it was the only sound you could make with his tongue swirling around your clit like that.

He pressed his face into you even harder, the very definition of eating you out, and suddenly you were at the very top, just about to topple over and one, two more swirls from his tongue and you fell into the abyss, coming and clenching and clamping your thighs around his head and letting his name fall from your lips in a long, drawn out moan.

He pulled away and walked his hands up the bed to you, dipping his head down to kiss you, letting you see and taste the evidence of you all over him, in his beard, on his lips, letting you see that owned him, body and soul.

‘You okay there, baby girl?’ he asked, grinning over you, taking in your heavy eyes and flushed skin.

‘Perfect,’ you smiled lazily at him.

‘That’s what I like to hear,’ he beamed, blue eyes never leaving yours for a second, ‘Now hook your legs over my hips.’

You did as you were told, crossing your ankles behind his back to keep your grip. You hadn’t even noticed him get rid of his boxers. You felt him snake a hand between you and you readied yourself, excited. He ran his cock over your sensitive flesh a couple of times, your muscles twitching in aftershock, coating himself in the evidence of your orgasm.

Then he was at your entrance, teasing you with his tip, barely going in at all before pulling out again. It was his favourite thing to do: keep up a steady pattern so that he could enter you fully when you least expected it.

You laughed lightly with anticipation. He grinned down at you and then he slowly, slowly pushed in, letting you feel every inch of him as he filled you up to the hilt. Your moan of pleasure lasted the whole time, mingling with his, the mouth-watering stretch of him inside you.

‘I swear to God sweetheart, this is...’

‘I know,’ you agreed breathily.

He thrust a few times, experimental and easy, before picking up the pace and setting his rhythm. He kept himself propped on his arms, never letting his weight rest on your belly, and you reached up to hold his head between your palms, maintaining your eye contact, intense and powerful, as he thrust inside you again and again, as deep as he could get.

‘I love you,’ he gasped, ‘So much.’

‘I love you baby, I love you,’ you told him and it was like a prayer.

You stretched your back and your neck out, giving in to the feeling he was building inside you, thrusting up each time to hit your g spot, your gasps and moans ringing out in the softly lit room.

‘Baby, I’m –‘ there was warning in his voice and you knew he wouldn’t be too much longer.

‘Yeah, yeah, go, please.’

He stood up then, out of your hands’ grip, to give himself more leverage. You saw him put his tongue into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before pressing it against your clit has he continued drive you a second orgasm. His pace inside you was relentless and his thumb against your clit matched his pace. Your laboured breathing hitched more and more as you writhed under his touch, your skin slapping together obscenely.

‘Come on sweetheart, come with me,’ his voice was gravelly and ragged, betraying his thin shred of control.

But he didn’t have much longer to wait.

You were right there and then you were gone, clenching around him again, crying out in immeasurable pleasure.

‘Fuck!’ you heard Chris bark out, as his rhythm and control was lost completely, his hips still thrusting against you messily as he milked every last second of your release as well as his own.

He slumped forward on to his arms again, capturing your sobbing lips with his own to kiss you deeply and passionately, swallowing your cries as he stilled within you, spent. He pulled out of you carefully and threw himself down next to you on your left, landing on the cushion mountain he had made. Just as earlier, he linked your hand with yours, resting his elbow against his stomach and holding your hands out in front of the two of you, gazing at your wedding band glinting in the lamplight.

‘Do you find it crazy that we’ve only been married for seven months?’ he asked, reflective in his post-coital state.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Just that, I feel like I’ve been married to you forever – not in a bad way!’ he hastily added with a laugh when he heard your scoff of disbelief, ‘I just can’t remember what life was like before you, like it was all blurry and grey before you came along, and suddenly, everything had more meaning.’

You felt tears prick your eyes. Damn these stupid hormones!

‘Same,’ you whispered, ‘I was happy, I had a good life and had done things I was really proud of, but it doesn’t compare to how I feel now.’

‘And I think it can’t possibly get better but then it will. In not too much more time at all, hopefully.’

‘I know,’ you smiled, rubbing your free hand against your bump, ‘And nothing else will matter probably, once he or she is here. They’ll be our greatest achievement ever.’

***  
Your eyes flickered open to the darkness. You swam up from sleep, feeling out in your body, making sure nothing strange had woken you. It was a habit you’d started almost as soon as you found out you were pregnant, just to calm yourself when you had pregnancy-induced anxiety. Chris was fast asleep, facing you. You could just make out his features in the dim, blue-tinged light from the moon that filtered through the lightweight blinds and you smiled to yourself. You hoped your baby had his eyes.

Suddenly, you felt a definite twinge somewhere low in your body and a shooting pain that quickly dulled to a cramping and spread through your groin and abdomen. You sat up with a gasp, feeling dampness under you and you knew what had happened. Determined to stay calm, you took a deep breath.

‘Chris?’ you said softly, ‘Chris baby, wake up.’

‘Hmm, what’s – babe? What’s up?’ his mumbling was rough with sleep.

‘Chris… I think the baby’s coming.’

It was his turn to shoot up, leaning over to his night stand to switch the lamp on, ‘Oh god, okay, okay. Shit. Okay, we’ve got your bag ready, I’ll ring your mom. And call ahead to the hospital, and –‘

‘Chris?’ you voice stilled him, ‘I really need you to stay calm for me, babe.’

His face softened and he collected himself, running through your plan of action you’d come up over the last couple of weeks, ‘Of course you do. So, first things first, a nice warm bath?’

He was already up and stalking to the bathroom as you were nodding your agreement. You heard him switch the taps on and then the rattling of a box for a few seconds as he shook in your lavender bath salts. You were just swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, tentative in your movements, when he came back, taking your hands in his and helping you up.

‘Okay?’ he asked, concern etched in his face.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. It’s not too bad yet, only just the beginning, isn’t it?’

‘It’s all going to be fine,’ he soothed you, undoing the buttons on your (his) plaid shirt that you’d taken to wearing to bed, stripping you naked for your bath and then gently smoothing his hands over your bump, ‘I know you’re excited – we are too – but you just stay warm and cosy in there for a little while longer, let Mommy have a bath and then when we’re at the hospital, we’ll be ready to meet you.’

Your heart soared. He looked up to you then, taking your hands in his, eyes full of wonderment and shining in the glow of the lamp light, ‘This is it, we’re having a baby.’

You chuckled at him, nodding, your own eyes probably as shiny as his, ‘I know.’

He led you to the bathroom, refusing to let go of your hands and helped you in to the water.

Chris lit a few candles and dimmed the light once you were in, breathing long and deep. In through the nose, out through the mouth, in through the nose, out through the mouth.

‘I’ll go and make the calls,’ Chris almost whispered, your enforced calm obviously spilling over to him.

But you didn’t want him to leave you just yet.

‘No, Chris, wait,’ you held a hand out, splashing water over the side of the large tub, ‘It’ll be hours yet, my contractions are nowhere near each other. Can you just… stay here with me?’

‘Of course I can. Shift forward and I’ll get in with you.’

He stripped his boxers off and climbed behind you, encasing you with his legs and pulling you back easily through the water to rest against him. You leaned against his chest, your temple just resting against his bearded jaw as you breathed through another contraction.

‘All good?’ Chris asked, running his hands slowly and calmly over your bump.

‘Yeah. This is just… just what I need.’

He turned his head to kiss your temple and you swivelled your neck to look up at him with a content smile. He gazed down at you, the depth of your feelings unspoken but communication nevertheless in the silence of the bathroom, before dipping his head to press his lips to yours, unhurried and reverent, full of love and gratitude, a kiss that marked the beginning of a whole new chapter in your lives.


	3. Still Beautiful

Chris could hear the chaos before he’d even put the key in the door. It was a sound that he’d secretly come to love when thinking back on the days in this very house when it was just him and Dodger in quiet solitude. He couldn’t help but smile to himself though as he stepped through the doorway to discover what craziness his family we’re getting up to today.

‘Dad’s home!’ was screamed from somewhere in the house and two small bodies came barrelling down the hall in a blur, skidding on the wooden flooring as they tried to slow themselves down. Chris knelt down and braced himself for impact as they hurled themselves into his arms. He left loud, smacking kisses on their faces in greeting and they laughed at the tickling his beard caused.

‘Right, stand back, let me look at you,’ he held them at arm’s length and pretend to regard them sternly with one arched eyebrow and a pinched mouth.

‘Master Evans, you appear to be covered in flour, would you like to explain yourself?’ He requested in mock seriousness of his eldest son.

'Momma’s been baking with us,’ Mason answered back in excitement, giggling, 'Come and see Daddy, come and see.’

His son put one sticky hand around his fingers to pull him towards the kitchen. Chris stood up as he spoke to his second eldest.

'Is this true Gracie?’

A pair of big blue eyes (so much like his own, he thought) blinked back at him and she nodded happily.

'Shall we go and see then? Hop on and let’s go and see what you’ve made,’ he patted his leg and she instantly clung to it koala style. The three of them walked to the kitchen together, Chris relying on all his acting skills to drag his leg and complain about the heavy weight slowing him down.

In the kitchen he finally got to see his wife. You were just pulling your youngest out of the high chair having finished baking and leaving the results on the counter to cool. You were covered in baking ingredients and probably more than an acceptable amount of baby sick. Your hair was in a messy bun piled haphazardly on top of your head and you were wearing your yoga pants and a thin, slouchy v neck tshirt.

As Chris looked at you, you swiped some hair from your face as Freya tried to reach for the loose strands with a chubby fist, gurgling happily on your hip as you bounced her. You were a sight to behold, and still took his breath away, years later.

'Hey beautiful,’ Chris’ deep voice sounded from the other side of the room and you spun around to face him, smiling in greeting.

'Hey baby, I see you’ve found two rascals on your way in here,’ you nodded at your two eldest children now standing at Chris’ feet, holding each of his hands.

'I did indeed, they mentioned something about baking?’

At the word 'baking’, Mason cried out with urgency again, bouncing Chris’ arm.

'We made cupcakes Dad, chocolate ones!’

'No way, not chocolate ones! They’re my  _favourite_! Let me have a look.’

You met Chris and your children by the cooling cakes on the counter and he pulled you to him for a hello kiss, careful not to bump Freya at your hip.

'Ewwwww! That’s so gross!’ Grace giggled as Mason pretended to throw up. You grinned against Chris’ mouth.

'She’s got a point babe, look at the state of me!’ you sighed, 'Remember when I used to be a model?!’

Chris spoke in a quiet voice, just for you, tightening his grip your baby free hip.

'You amaze me every single day and you are still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.’

'Even covered in butter and baby sick?’

'Even then.  _Especially_  then,’ he kissed you again, quickly this time so as not to earn the distaste of Mason and Grace.

Freya reached out to him, clamping and opening her fists to get his attention and he quickly scooped her up and out of your arms, holding her around the middle securely and elevating her above his head before bringing her face to face with him.

'And how’s my little angel been today?’

'She’s been good. Napped earlier but been awake since then so hopefully we’ll have a decent night.’

'That’s what we like to hear. Now then, Mason, Gracie, you better show me what you’ve made.’

They pulled over their little steps with the rubber grips on so they could reach on to the counter and Mason began explaining the baked goods.

'We made enough for everyone! We’ve all got one each for after dinner.’

'Well, we might have to split Freya’s between us, she’s a bit young for chocolate cake yet. Can you count them for me, Mase?’

Mason began counting with Chris’ encouragement and you waited for the penny to drop with your husband.

'One… Two… Three… Four… Five… Six…. Six, Daddy, we made six!’

You could see Chris’ brow knit in confusion so you decided to stir things up a little more.

'And how many people have we got in our family Mason?’

He started counting on his fingers and eventually worked out there were five - two grown ups and two kids and a baby - and he beamed when you told him how clever he was with his numbers.

Chris still looked confused and kept glancing from the cakes back to you as Freya tried to stuff her hand in his mouth.

'Have a look at the toppers I made,’ and you slid the little flags you had taped to cocktail sticks ready to go in the tops of the cakes when they were ready.

He held them up one by one, reading Daddy, Mommy, Mason, Grace, Freya and then he paused at the last one, apparently speechless, before turning to you with it in his hand.

'You’re serious?’ He looked at you in disbelief.

'Dude, I’m as shocked as you are. Are we the most fertile couple on the planet or what?’ You laughed, letting your joy filter into your voice.

Chris laughed then, happiness spreading across his features as he read the flag once more: 'Baby Evans #4’.

'Oh my god, four kids. We’re going to be the parents of four actual kids,’ he spoke around his laughter, laying the topper on the counter again.

You placed a hand against his face and whispered, feeling the choking emotion that came with being a happy as you currently were, 'Four very lucky kids, to have you as a dad.’

He tilted his head down to rest his forehead against yours as he rested his free hand against your belly, 'We’re a team, sweetheart. There’s no way I could do this without you. You are, without a doubt, the best thing that ever happened to me.’

You pressed your lips to his, ignoring Freya’s pulls on your hair once again, before grinning, 'Oh I know, I just like to massage your ego from time to time.’

'Thanks babe. Love you too,’ Chris rolled his eyes at you in his good-natured way before indicating towards Mason and Gracie, 'I think this time we lead with the exciting news that they’ll get to go and stay with Grandmomma Lisa for a few days soon, rather than the news that there’s yet another brother or sister on the way.’

You nodded with certainty, remembering the sheer disappointment that unfolded when the news was broken before Freya’s arrival that the baby in Mommy’s tummy was, in fact, a person baby, and not a dog baby for Dodger to play with, 'Agreed, definitely. Good idea Evans, I knew there was a reason I married you.’

'Not my huge dick then, no?’

You gave him a light slap on his shoulder in exaggerated outrage. You were fairly certain Mason and Grace were too preoccupied choosing their icing and sprinkle combinations for their cupcakes to pay attention, but still, Mason was getting old enough to copy the things he heard now, especially where his dad was concerned.

'And because you’re such an amazing dad, you’ll be taking that particular parent-teacher conference when Mason’s been repeating your inappropriate language. Good luck  _teaming_  your way out of that one.’


	4. Might Actually Be Perfect

It was bedtime in the Evans household and that meant story time. With four kids aged seven and under, finding a story that suited the full range of sons and daughters was a struggle, as was the timing.

Story time needed to be early enough for two (almost three, Chris reminded himself) year old Connor and this caused some not-very-well-hidden disdain on the part of seven year old Mason, who was the oldest and beginning to think that meant he was entitled to certain privileges beyond having a bed time half an hour later than his two younger sisters: Grace, five and Freya, three.

‘Dad, I’m too old for story time now. I’m seven! And it’s way too early for me anyway, my bed time is  _way_  later now!’ Mason’s dramatic stance was almost laughable as he stood in the doorway of your bedroom, feet apart, arms crossed defiantly across his chest. He was so like you it wasn’t even funny.

You had Connor curled up on your lap, your legs covered by the bed sheets. Your two baby girls were snuggled in next to you, awaiting their story. Chris was in the playroom and nursery next door, selecting this evening’s book but clearly also listening to Mason’s argument about story time.

You were about to intervene when you heard Chris’ calm voice drift into the hall.

’D'ya know what buddy? You’re totally right. You are way too old for story time now so you better just go ahead to your room, tuck yourself in and we’ll see you tomorrow. I think that’s what all grown up seven year olds do, isn’t that right, Mom?’

He addressed the last question to you as he appeared next to Mason in the doorway, two books in hand. You played along, realising Chris’ attempt at reverse psychology.

‘Your dad’s right Mase, you’re just too grown up for us now. So goodnight sweetheart, see you in the morning.’

Chris placed a hand gently on his shoulder, ‘I know your bedtime isn’t for another hour yet but if you can’t come to story time anymore, you better just go sit in your room until it’s half past seven.’

Mason was clearly at a loss, not expecting this sudden turn of events, as he glanced between the two of you before sloping off in the direction of his room. You and Chris shared a knowing smile as Chris approached the bed.

‘Right then, for those of us that aren’t too old for story time, our choices tonight are The Gruffalo or Room on the Broom!’

Gracie immediately shouted, ‘Room on the Broom!’

‘The Gruffalo, The Gruffalo!’ Freya insisted.

‘Oh dear, it seems we have a stale mate. Does our youngest audience member have a preference?’ Chris directed his gaze over to you and the toddler curled up against your chest.

‘I think Connor’s too tired out to mind hugely,’ you offered.

‘I’ve got an idea, Daddy,’ Grace spoke out, voice slightly muffled by the sheets tucked around her mouth.

‘Go on then baby girl, hit me with it,’ Chris stood with his arms outstretched, waiting for her reply. He was always so animated and such a showman with the kids, and they loved him for it.

‘Tell us the story of how you and Mommy met!’

Upon hearing this, Freya made her agreement known, chanting away until Grace joined in with her.

‘Oh, you’ve heard this story hundreds of times!’

‘But it’s our favourite. Please Dad, please?

Chris looked at you with his eyebrows raised in question, 'You happy to hear this story one more time?’

'Of course,’ you smiled back. The version Chris told was a little embellished here and there to up the entertainment factor for the kids but you still liked listening to it, to the way he told it.

'Oh, it’s a shame Mason isn’t here,’ Chris spoke deliberately loudly so that his voice would carry across the hall, 'Because I know he  _loves_  the story of how Mom and Dad met.’

Knowing the seed had been planted, he got into the bed you shared at the opposite side, sandwiching the girls between you.

'Okay kids, this is the story of how your mother and I met for the very first time,’ Chris began. Grace tucked herself into his side, one hundred percent the daddy’s girl and the complete mirror image of him. If Mason was all you, Grace was entirely Chris. 'And it’s a story with a very happy ending because obviously it led to all of you-’

Just then a shadow appeared at the door as a small creak of a floorboard was heard in the hall. Mason. You seized the opportunity as you held your younger son to you.

'Mason, honey, you don’t need to stand out there. Come in and join us. You can help tell the story. You’ve obviously heard it the most, being the oldest.’

A small head appeared from around the doorway, 'Only because it’s this story though. I’m too old for Room on the Broom.’

You bit back a chuckle and one look at Chris’ tense jaw told you he was having to do the same. He shifted towards you on the bed, creating a space at the side of him on the mattress.

'Here you go dude, there’s room for you here,’ Chris told him, patting the space. Mason sloped over, contrite, and hopped under the covers, not pushing Chris’ arm away when he tucked it around him.

'So, where was I?’

Grace was the first to remind him, 'It has a happy ending!’

'Ah yes, we know the ending, because this is the ending, all of us right here.’

'It didn’t start as well though, did it Dad?’ Mason spoke out from Chris’ right hand side, desperate to be involved after almost losing out on story time altogether.

'Nope, it certainly did not. And why was that Mason?’

'Because mom hated dad when they first met!’ Your eldest began giggling uncontrollably, which set off Gracie and Freya as well.

Chris looked over at you, grinning, clearly remembering those early days over a decade ago now. Back then, you hadn’t even been sure if it was possible to love this deeply at all, having never had experience of it. But that all changed as Chris slowly but surely began to win you over.

'She did, unfortunately,’ Chris continued in a stage whisper, 'Mainly because she’d already decided what I must be like without even getting to know me first.’

'Hey!’ You protested, using your free hand to stroke Freya’s wavy hair back from her face as she lay sleepily against the pillow, 'In my defence, you were a super annoying boy.’

'All boys are annoying, aren’t they mom?’ Gracie said from Chris’ side.

'That’s my girl,’ Chris agreed, proudly, 'Boys are annoying and you can just keep thinking that until you’re at least thirty. But I was actually thirty five at the time, so, technically, not a boy.’

'Sorry, let me be more specific. A thirty five year old man child,’ you quipped back.

'Okay, okay, let’s just say that I had some trouble growing up, unlike Mason here,’ Chris poked his son gently in the ribs, making him giggle at the tickle.

'So what did you do to annoy Mom, Dad?’ Mason was impatient to get back on track.

So Chris told, again, the story of how you met at a big work party in LA, and he thought instantly that you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He saw you from across the room and it was like time stopped, he no longer saw anyone else, just you (you rolled your eyes with a smile at that, remembering how drunk he had been that night). Chris continued to describe how nervous he had been to approach you and how he’d hovered around as you chatted and laughed with other people and waited for a chance to introduce himself. He had taken note of what you were drinking so he could order you the same (an orange soda in this kids version, obviously, a Tequila Sunrise in the real version) and when he finally managed to cut in, he tripped over someone’s foot in the crowd and split the orange soda (Tequila Sunrise) all down your blush pink red carpet dress.

The kids all gasped at this, even though they knew it by heart.

'Oh Dad, how embarrassing,’ Mason piped up, sounding much older than this seven years.

'I know dude, I wasn’t always as dashing and charming as I am now. Luckily, you don’t seem to have inherited my meatball characteristics.’

'Nah, I’m pretty cool,’ Mason grinned cheekily.

'Yeah, yeah, careful that head doesn’t get too big to get out the door,’ Chris warned him in his good natured way.

'Next Daddy, next!’ Freya demanded.

'Okay sweetheart, what happened next? Let me think… so there was your mom with orange soda all down her dress and there was me wanting the ground to just open up and swallow me whole and she just looked at me, in shock at first, and I was paralysed with embarrassment. And eventually, she just snapped, 'Nice to meet you too!’ And then she disappeared into the crowd towards the bathrooms and I never saw her again,’ he finished with a grin, knowing what would come next.

'Daaaaaaddddd, that’s such a lie! How could we all be here now if you never saw her again?’ Grace giggled.

'Oh, of course, I was forgetting the most important part…’

And he continued to say how, months later, you had met by chance at a Patriots game (Chris and all the kids cheered) and Chris had been surprised to see you, both in the stadium and in Boston in general. But he knew it was a sign. And even though you were there with another guy (the kids all joined in a chorus of 'Booooooooo!’ at this, turning the story into a real pantomime), he just knew that this was his chance to make you see that he was actually fairly decent. It turned out that the other guy was just your friend’s older brother and that you weren’t seeing anyone.

'So I swept her off her feet!’ Chris finished triumphantly and you scoffed loudly.

'Hardly!’

'Well no, but I did get her and her friends some better seats near me and Uncle Scott and bought her a hot dog and fries at halftime.’

'And did you forgive him, Mom?’ Mason asked, peering over Chris’ chest.

'I did, just about. The Pats lost that day and he was so sad, I took pity on him, so when he asked how long I was in Boston for and would I like to go to dinner the next night, I couldn’t say no.’

'That’s right kids, you’re all sat here right now because your mom agreed to go on a pity date with me.’

'What’s a pity?’ Freya asked quietly.

'It’s when you feel so bad for someone, you do something nice for them even though you really don’t want to,’ Chris explained, patiently.

Freya’s eyes went wide, 'Mom, you didn’t want to be boyfriends and girlfriends with dad??’

'It wasn’t too much longer after that I did sweetheart, don’t worry. The night after, your dad came and picked me up, brought me some flowers, and took me to a really, really fancy restaurant. He was wearing a gorgeous suit that made him look really handsome and he’d booked a whole room just for us.’

'I was trying to impress her,’ Chris continued, 'But when we got the menus, neither of us seemed to be able to decide on what we wanted and when I was looking at your mom, she actually scrunched her nose up at something, like it was really horrible, and I knew then I’d made a mistake.’

_***_

Chris had looked at you across the table and decided to go with a joke, 'Man, I can’t seem to find the burger section anywhere.’

You remembered feeling so relieved. Everything on the menu sounded ridiculous, some of it downright disgusting, and the prices! As unsure as you were about Chris, you were fairly certain he was going to foot the bill of this little outing and you didn’t want him spending all that for you to push your food around your plate and get hammered on expensive wine because you had nothing in your stomach.

You had laughed nervously, not wanting to put a dampener on something he’d obviously gone to some effort to pull off, but he’d leant forward and whispered to you across the table, 'Come on, let’s go. I know a place.’

You had grabbed your clutch bag while he threw some bills on the table to cover the wine and the inconvenience and placed your hand in his when he offered it to you. Exhilarated, you dashed through the restaurant as the maitre d’ was showing a couple to a table and ran to the end of the block, pausing around the corner to catch your breath and laugh.

He’d laughed even more when he looked at you and saw that you’d plucked the bottle of wine from the ice bucket on the way out.

'What?! It was expensive! I wasn’t going to just leave it sitting there!’

'I think… I think you might actually be perfect.’

***

'So then we took our expensive lemonade and went to the best burger place in the city.’

'And your dad knew the owner of the restaurant and the building so he let us sit up on his roof and we did, on a blanket in our best clothes, eating our burgers and drinking lemonade out of two paper cups.’

'We could see all the lights of Boston and it was beautiful but still not as breathtaking as your mom.’

You looked at each other in affectionate silence for a moment, now with years of love between you but remembering that night when he’d kissed you gently, reverently on a blanket on a roof under the night sky of Boston, before glancing down and seeing that every single one of your four children were fast asleep.

Chris indicated towards them with his head and you nodded in silent agreement, no words needed for your communication. Chris scooped Mason up to take him to his room while you carefully shimmied off the mattress with Connor, carrying him to the nursery and laying him down gently. You checked the monitor was on and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, running a feather light finger down his warm cheek. Your baby boy was going to be three soon and barely even a baby anymore.

Back in the bedroom, Chris was gingerly picking up Grace and you reached for Freya. You tiptoed in silent convoy to the room they shared and lay them in their respective beds, switching on their glowing night light and taking turns to kiss them goodnight and tuck them in. Chris headed to the nursery to wish his youngest sweet dreams and you went to Mason’s room.

Leaning over, you brushed his mop of hair back from his forehead and kissed him on the exposed skin. He stirred slightly and his eyes flickered.

'Shh baby, it’s only me saying goodnight. Go back to sleep.’

He reached his arms up to wrap around your neck and spoke in a muffled, sleep-ridden voice.

'I’m really glad you gave dad a chance.’

You chuckled quietly, 'Me too, sweetheart. He’s a pretty good dad, isn’t he?’

'Yeah, and you’re the best mom. Love you.’

With that, his arms dropped to the bed and he fell into slumber.

'Love you too, my baby boy,’ you whispered, feeling your eyes well with… you weren’t sure what exactly. A combination of love, nostalgia, sadness that time was passing so quickly but also hope for a wonderful future.

With one last press of your lips to his forehead, you arose and softly stepped out of the room, leaving the door ajar the way he liked. Chris was leaning against the bannister of the stairs, greeting you with his lop sided smile but it quickly fell when he saw your watery eyes.

'Hey baby, what’s wrong?’ Concern dropped from his voice and he stepped towards you to gather you into his arms.

'Oh, I don’t know,’ you huffed against his chest, 'they’re just growing up so fast but they’re so great.’

You felt his chest rumble with a soft chuckle, 'I know sweetheart, we really did okay, didn’t we?’

'More than okay. I’m just being silly. Something about story time got me all emotional.’

You pulled back to swipe at your eyes but Chris was there already, brushing away the few tears that had escaped with gentle thumbs as you continued:

'Do you think it will always be like this? I just… sometimes I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.’

'Well, we’ve had our fair share of ups and downs but we’ve managed so far. Don’t forget we’ve got to get four kids through their teenage years yet and if Mason now is anything to go by, we’re in for a hell of a ride.’

You barked out laugh through your subsiding sniffles, 'God help us.’

'There doesn’t always have to be a shoe, you know. Or a catch. We just… are who we are,’ Chris shrugged with a smile.

You smiled back, giving his face a good once over with your gaze, savouring the moment. Feeling that familiar gathering of heat low in your belly, you placed your hands on his shoulders, still strong and hard under your touch even though he was well into his forties now, and leant forwards to speak lowly in his ear.

'And could who we are right now be a husband carrying his wife to their bed to make slow, delicious love all night?’ You pulled back so he could see your face and then shrugged nonchalantly, 'Or at least for an hour, because you know, kids and sleep.’

You were so close you could see his pupils dilate as he spoke in rough voice, 'I think that can probably be arranged.’

And with that, he threw you over his shoulder, swatted you lightly on the ass as you tried to swallow down your surprised giggle, and carried you to your bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him with his foot.


	5. Lucky Enough

It was Friday night and you were out with friends having a few cocktails and good catch up. Chris and the kids had dropped you off in the city earlier and he’d told you to go have fun. He knew how important it was for you to catch up with your friends, especially from Victoria’s Secret. It kept that part of your life present and Chris knew it was important for you to just be  _you_ , as well as being a wife and a mother. So he’d kissed you from the driver’s seat of the SUV and watched as you sashayed into the bar, before doing a u-turn and heading back home.

The kids had eaten earlier and after a movie (The Rescuers, because Chris believed in keeping the classics alive) and a quick bedtime story, they were all fast asleep in their respective beds.

Chris had mooched about with a beer in hand, playing with Dodger (as much as ten year old Dodger would allow) and watching a few sports commentary shows. Although, like all busy parents, Chris sometimes longed for an hour or two to himself in the day, when he actually got it, he found he was bored shitless. What did he even used to do with his time before he had you and the kids?

So when Mason, his eldest at eight years old, appeared at the living room door sleepily rubbing his eyes and looking a bit miserable, Chris found he was actually something close to being relieved.

‘Hey little man, what’s up? I thought you were asleep?’

‘I was but I think I had a bad dream and now I can’t get back to sleep.’

‘You want to sit here with me and Dodger for a bit, take your mind off it?’ Chris patted the sofa next to him.

Mason nodded and dropped himself down next to his dad.

‘When will mom be home?’

'I’m not sure, she’s getting a ride back later. Is there something you want to talk about?’ Chris sensed there was a motivation behind the question. He hoped that all his children felt they were able to approach either of their parents equally with any problems but he understood as much as anyone that there were some things you just needed to talk to your mom about. In your absence, however, he needed to be that person for Mason.

'I don’t know… I feel like you’re going to be mad,’ Mason admitted uncomfortably, not making eye contact.

That immediately had all kinds of scenarios whirling around Chris’ mind.

'What’s wrong? Why would I be mad? Are you in trouble?’ He tried to keep the urgency out of his voice but knew he was failing.

'Oh it doesn’t matter, I’ll wait for mom tomorrow,’ Mason made to stand up but Chris gently tugged him back by his arm.

'Sorry dude, I just get worried. I promise I’ll just listen and not ask so many questions.’

'And you won’t get mad?’ Mason looked up hopefully from where he was now tucked under Chris’ arm.

Chris hesitated for a second, formulating the best answer, 'I reserve judgement on that, but as long as you’re okay, I won’t get mad.’

His son looked away again and, taking a deep breath, began to speak:

'So, some kids at school today, they were making fun of me called me an 'accident’. That I wasn’t supposed to be born. That you and mom didn’t want me.’

Mason had been right, Chris was mad. Where would a bunch of kids even get that notion? There had been some speculation around the time the news of your pregnancy broke and it’s closeness to the wedding date but how would kids even… fucking parents. The parents were even worse than the kids at that shitty school, Chris would swear it. Stuck up, judgemental parents who somehow thought that forking out tens of thousands of dollars for their kids education made them the law on everything, like everyone wasn’t paying fees there.

'Who was it? Give me names and I’ll email the principal right now,’ Chris demanded, plucking his phone from where it rested on the coffee table.

'Dad, no!’ Mason panicked, and then started to get frustrated, 'Forget it, I’ll just talk to mom tomorrow.’

He ran from the room and Chris could hear his footsteps one after the other up the stairs. He was caught somewhere between boiling rage and confusion. Firstly, how dare anyone say those kinds of things to his son! But swiftly overtaking that rage was the realisation that he needed to help Mason right now, and not fly off the handle bombarding half his teachers with emails on a Friday night.

So, he rose from the sofa and followed the footsteps his son had taken only moments earlier. He gently knocked on Mason’s door and pushed it fully open to the darkness of his room. The glow-in-the-dark stars cast tiny shadows against the models of planets that hung from the ceiling. In the slice of light that fell through the doorway from the hall, Chris could make out a Mason-shaped lump on his bed, covered completely, head and all, by his constellation bed sheets.

Chris took his silence and stillness as a blessing to enter and he sank himself down onto the mattress where he thought Mason’s feet may have been.

'Mase? I’m sorry dude, I said I’d listen and I didn’t. But I’ve realised it’s more important that I tell you the truth than go mad at the punks that upset you.’

That had Mason shifting and his head emerged as he folded his sheets over, tucking them under his arms.

'What do you mean, the truth?’ His voice was thick and Chris’ heart broke knowing that he’d been crying. Kids could be so mean to each other.

'The truth about you, of course,’ Chris spoke like Mason should know exactly what he was talking about.

'Dad, tell me.’

'I was on a press conference panel for the last Avengers film. I’d been away from your mom for a just over a month and it was pretty hard, being away that long when we were getting married so soon. And it was really busy then and we were on different time zones and it was really difficult to talk on the phone.’

'But I remember feeling my phone buzz in my pocket when I was stood in the wings waiting to go out on the stage and I pulled it out quickly to check it. I saw it was your mom and the first line I saw on my notifications was 'I really hate to do this via text…’ and I immediately jumped to all the worst conclusions.’

'What does that mean, Dad?’ Mason enquired.

'It means I was already imagining that something bad had happened. I thought she was going to tell me she wanted to break up with me!’ Chris’ hands were flying along with his words.

'Daaaaddddd, that would never happen!’ Mason rolled his eyes but he sat up in his bed with a chuckle and Chris knew he was swimming to the surface of his worries.

'I know right?! But that’s what I thought when I saw that first line!’

'So you had to read it before you went out, right?’ Mason leant forward slightly, enthralled.

'Of course! So, heart pounding, I opened up the message. The host is outside whipping up the crowd and announcing us but I don’t hear any of it because I’m so focused on this message and can you guess what it said?’ Chris leant forward towards Mason, eyes wide.

'Just tell me! Please!’

'It said, 'I really hate to do this via text but you’re not due home for weeks and we keep playing phone tag and I just need you to know. You remember I said I’ve been feeling pretty weird for a couple of weeks? Well, after ruling all obvious things out, I just took a test and… we’re having a baby! Have a great day sweetheart, even though I know it will be impossible to have anything but now. Call me when you get a chance so we can be excited together. Love you.’

'Was that me? Was I the baby?’ Mason was up on his knees now, clinging on to Chris’ arm and bouncing.

'You sure were,’ Chris laughed.

'Wait,’ his son went from barely able to contain his excitement to still and contemplative, 'How do you even remember all that?’

Chris pulled him into his side, 'Dude, you know what my job is, right?’

'Yeah, but it’s been years! I’m eight years old now! And you don’t really act much now!’

'Okay, okay, you got me. I screenshot it straight away and I’ve had it saved in my Cloud ever since. Want to see?’

Mason just nodded eagerly and so Chris grabbed his phone from his pocket, unlocked it and located the screenshot. He passed it to Mason who held it between his palms like it was precious. He read the screen, his little face of wonder glowing in the back light.

'Did you reply?’ he turned to Chris after reading the message.

'Not by text. Everyone else was heading out on to the stage around me and I had to go with them. I sat down in front of everyone, loads of people in the crowd, all screaming and lights flashing and music playing and I knew that I had to be there, it was part of my job.’

'But I couldn’t focus. On anything. I was ready to burst inside. And I knew that if I didn’t call your mom right there and then, it could be days and days before we got to talk again. Someone asked me a question and I didn’t even hear it. All the cast were looking at me like I had three heads and I was frozen in my own thoughts.’

'And I just got up and left. I had to speak to your mom and I couldn’t tell everyone there about the news I’d just got even though it was exploding from me. So I walked off stage.’

'No way! Dad!’ Mason exclaimed in awe.

'I’d never done anything like that before. It’s on YouTube!’

Chris pulled up the YouTube app and, doing a quick search, found the video.

'Did you get in trouble?’ Mason wondered after watching it.

'A little bit, but no one could be too mad a few weeks later when we could share the news with our friends.’

'And were they excited too?’ Mason didn’t quite meet his eyes but Chris could hear the hope in his voice.

'Mase,  _everyone_  was excited. You were the best news we could ever share with anyone. Just think about Christmas and birthdays for a minute. What are the best kinds of presents?’

Mason sat still while he thought and eventually came up with an answer, 'When you get something you wanted but didn’t think you would get.’

'Exactly, and finding out about you was like getting all my surprise birthday and Christmas presents at once,’ Chris squeezed him to his side in a one-armed hug, 'I didn’t think I’d be lucky enough to get you so soon, but you arrived and made my life a thousand times better.’

'I did?’ Mason looked up at him with eyes exactly the same as yours.

'You did,’ Chris replied definitively, 'and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.’

***

It was after one a.m. when you snuck into the house after a really fun night out with your friends. You tiptoed straight upstairs and, one after the other, headed into the rooms of all your children to kiss them goodnight, gently so as not to wake them.

Mason’s room was the furthest from the stairs so you got to his last, but was surprised upon entering to find not only your eldest son but also your husband, fast asleep.

Chris was on his back, one leg hanging over the side of the narrow bed, one hand resting on his chest. His other arm held Mason, who was using Chris’ shoulder as a pillow, to him tightly.

You paused beside them to take in just how adorable they were before leaning over to gently shake Chris awake. You didn’t have the heart to leave him as he was, knowing how uncomfortable he’d be in the morning having slept in this position.

His eyes fluttered open and you leant down to kiss him lightly.

'Hey babe, didn’t want you to be sore in the morning, although the two of you are the cutest things I’ve ever seen in my life.’

'Thanks sweetheart,’ came the drowsy reply.

Chris came round slowly and realised where he was. He ever so carefully slid Mason’s head on to his pillow and stood up, taking care not to jostle the bed too much.

You leant over to press your lips to Mason’s forehead and followed Chris to your bedroom. You did a quick brush of your teeth and swiped the majority of your make up off with a face wipe before stripping down to your underwear and heading for bed.

'Was he okay?’ you asked as you climbed in under the sheets next to your husband.

'Yeah, he’s fine now,’ Chris pulled you to him, already beginning to drift off having not really fully woken up from his nap in Mason’s room, 'I’ll tell you the full story in the morning but we had a good chat about what happened when we found out we were having him.’

'I hope you showed him the screenshot and the video,’ you replied, beginning to fall to sleep yourself.

'Yeah, he knows all about it now.’


	6. Outnumbered (Part 1)

You were ready to curl yourself into a ball and scream. Scream and scream until the whole of Boston could hear you but everyone left you alone and you could hear nothing but silence.

You loved all your children dearly but they were pushing you to the edge today. Worst of all, you were completely by yourself as your darling husband was at the Patriots game with his friends and as you stood in the utility room (with the door closed so you could have a minute to yourself) of your Boston home, shovelling yet more vomit-covered clothing and bed sheets into the washer, you don’t think you could have hated him more.

Gracie, your eldest daughter, had come down with a violent vomiting bug and was currently in her bed, puking her guts up what seemed like every half hour. This was the fourth time you’d had to change her pyjamas and her bed sheets so far today.

Unfortunately, Gracie shared a room with your youngest daughter, Freya, who was not at all happy that Grace was getting all this extra attention and was currently throwing a tantrum about a spot of vomit getting on her favourite teddy bear as Grace had lurched over the side of her bed, trying and failing to aim for the bucket you’d left with her.

Mason, the eldest of all the children and the one who could have been lending a hand keeping the younger children entertained, had stormed to his room after Chris had left earlier in the day, throwing his own tantrum about his dad going to the game without him on this one occasion and slamming the door behind him.

All the while, your youngest, sweet little Connor, was screaming and wailing and had barely stopped all day. He was teething and his poor cheeks were pink and flushed, his brow shiny with a sheen of sweat. You’d tried everything: his chewy gel rings that you’d put in the freezer in the hopes the coolness would soothe his sore gums; cucumber slices; teething gel; and finally you’d caved and given him a spoonful of children’s Nurofen.

It was undoubtedly a day of hell and Dodger was staying well out of the way, the noise and the chaos way too much for him. He was next to you in the utility room, curled up in one of his many beds dotted around the house, seeking solace in the relative quiet of the room and warmth from the dryer. Never before had you questioned your skills as a mother but everything seemed to be defeating you today.

The final straw came as your foot connected with a toy truck as you were carrying a laundry basket full of Grace’s things to the utility and you flew backwards, landing on your back with the basket on top of you and momentarily winded from the impact. The tears had started to fall before you had even registered just how exhausted and wrung out you were. Chris could not get home soon enough.

You slowly pulled yourself to your feet, annoyed with yourself as you swiped angrily at your tears. Gathering the laundry back into the basket you marched to the utility room and here you were, hiding from your kids with Dodger, feeling like a huge failure. You pulled your phone out of your back pocket to look at the time and saw with a desperate sob that Chris was due home an hour ago. Where was he?!

You pulled up his contact to call him and tried to steady your breathing for the conversation but there was no answer, the voicemail recording only serving to frustrate you further. You sank to the floor next to Dodger’s bed, your back against one of the storage cupboards, and placed your weary head in your hands.

You had planned to allow yourself until the count of fifty but at thirty two, the door to the utility room wrenched open and Mason was stood there with a face like thunder.

‘Mom, Grace has just been sick on the way to the bathroom. She keeps asking for dad. She was just outside my room and it’s everywhere,’ he was clearly disgusted and expected you to do something about it.

You took a deep breath in and began to haul yourself to your feet.

‘All right baby, I’m on my way.’

***

The Pats had only gone and fucking won! Chris could have cried, he was so happy. After the game, he and his buddies had continued the celebrations at a few bars around Boston, soaking up the electric atmosphere of sweet, sweet victory.

Eventually, he had called a cab and had made his way home, more than a few beers down and a big smile on his face. Checking his phone for the first time in hours, he saw a few missed calls from you.

‘Shit,’ he’d not actually told you there’d been a change of plan. He tried to call you back to check there wasn’t an emergency but you hadn’t answered and the sinking feeling in his stomach told him you were going to be pissed off.

So, like any guilty husband, he began formulating excuses and justifications for the remainder of the journey.

***

There was a baby screaming, some shouting going on upstairs followed by a door slamming and the coughing sobs of a toddler that had been crying for attention.

Chris closed the front door behind him and listened to try and determine what was going on before intervening but the chaos was brought to him almost immediately. You appeared at the top of the stairs with a laundry basket in hand, and you, graceful as ever, hurried down each step, clearly in a rush.

You looked up and locked eyes with Chris, who opened his mouth to speak. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say but it didn’t actually matter since you spoke first, quietly so that the kids upstairs wouldn’t hear your cursing.

‘Whatever it is you were going to say, save it for someone who’s got time to listen to your bullshit.’

And that was it: you didn’t stop, or even so much as pause, you just carried on with those hurried, purposeful footsteps towards the kitchen and utility room.

Chris blew out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and headed upstairs to where most of the noise was coming from. He went to the girl’s bedroom first to find a very poorly Grace in bed and a wailing Freya on the floor, clutching her cuddly toys.

'Freya sweetheart, what’s wrong?! Grace isn’t feeling to well and I don’t think all this noise is going to make her feel better.’

'Momma - took - my - bear - and - put - him - in - the - washer,’ she explained through hitched breaths.

'I got sick on it,’ Grace croaked from her bed, 'I said I was sorry.’

'Oh baby girl,’ Chris sank to the mattress next to her and stroked her hair back from her clammy forehead, 'I don’t think you’ve been able to help it really, have you?’

Grace shook her head and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, her tell for when she was trying not to cry.

'Don’t cry baby. I know you feel awful but we’ll soon get you better. Now, I’m going to take Freya and calm her down so you can have some peace and quiet, okay?’

She nodded, eyes heavy and face almost grey from exhaustion and nausea.

Chris held his arms out to Freya and she toddled towards him. He stood up with her in his arms and walked towards the door.

'Sweet dreams Gracie, anything you need before I go?’

Grace shook her head, 'I just want to sleep.’

'All right then sweetheart, shout me if you need me, okay?’

He closed the door softly behind him, Freya’s wails subsiding slightly now that she had Chris’ attention.

'Right you, Queen of Divas, momma’s only washing your bear to make sure he’s nice and clean. You do want a nice, clean bear, don’t you?’ He gave her his best stern look and she nodded, contrite. 'Then there’s no need for all this fuss, is there?’

She shook her head, not quite looking him in the face. Chris carried her through to Connor’s room and saw you already in there, trying to rock Connor to sleep. You didn’t do so much as acknowledge his entrance.

Chris placed Freya down on the spare day bed in Connor’s room, 'How about you and Connor have a sleepover tonight, Frey? While Gracie’s sick.’

She considered it for a moment then gave one nod, 'I don’t have my pjs though.’

'Go and sneak in to your room quietly, on tiptoes, and get your pjs and your own pillows, if you want them.’

Freya didn’t hesitate, happy to have a job to do and Chris sighed. The tension in the room was unbearable. You wouldn’t even look at him, concentrating instead on Connor’s face, who was beginning, it seemed, to cry himself to sleep.

'Where’s Mason?’ Chris asked softly.

'His room. Been in there most of the day. Annoyed that you didn’t take him to the game,’ your words were uncomfortably clipped.

Chris hauled himself up and sloped off to Mason’s room, knocking on the door before opening it. His eldest was in bed, seemingly asleep.

'Mase?’ Chris whispered. Mason’s eye flickered open and, obviously upon remembering that Chris was not his favourite person, turned his sleepy face into a scowl and hid his head back in the duvet.

'Mason, come on dude. I’m sorry I couldn’t take you. It was a grown ups day today,’ Chris tried to explain without letting slip that it was basically a drinking day.

Mason still wouldn’t turn around.

'Listen, next time the Pats play, me, you and Uncle Scott will go together, okay?’

There was a few moments of silence while he decided how good the offer was before he replied.

'A guy’s day? You promise?’

'Pinky promise,’ Chris held out his pinky finger for Mason to wrap his own around, 'But I need you to remember that just because something doesn’t go your way, it doesn’t mean you can just throw tantrums and sulk. Your mom could have really done with your help today and my guess is that you’ve been in here most of the day?’

Mason nodded, contrite.

'It wasn’t your mom’s fault but you took it out on her, and that’s not very fair, is it? When it was me that you were annoyed at?’

'No, dad.’

'Okay, so you don’t behave like that ever again, got it? Now give me a hug and go back to sleep.’

Mason wrapped his little arms around Chris’ neck and then settled back down under his sheets.

Chris headed back out to the hall. That was two kids sorted, just Freya and Connor to get into bed now and then he could begin his apologies to you. Back in the nursery, you were still rocking an exhausted Connor, who was, thankfully, falling into a fitful sleep, his clammy hand wrapped around your finger. Freya had changed into her pyjamas and was settling down under the sheets on the day bed, getting snug with her second favourite cuddly toy.

'Have you brushed those teeth, Frey?’ Chris asked her, smiling when she nodded.

You carefully laid Connor in his bed and crept away so as not to disturb him and risk waking him up, then left without a word and went downstairs to pour yourself a glass of wine, leaving Chris to put Freya to bed.

***

You felt like sitting at the kitchen table with the whole bottle and staring at the ceiling all night. You had never, in all your years of of being in relationship with Chris, ever felt so let down by him as you had today.

When he padded to the kitchen, Dodger rising wearily from his bed to go over and greet him, you barely even knew where to start.

'Look babe, I’m -’

'Don’t “babe” me! You’re a grown  _fucking_  man Chris, you can’t just go off for the day, getting hammered with your friends, not answering your phone and not come home when you told me you were going to be back. What was I supposed to do if something bad had happened? What if Grace needed to go to the hospital? You’re a father and a husband with responsibilities, not a thirty year old single man.’

'I know, I know, and I can only apologise. But how was I supposed to know all this was going on here? I just got caught up in the atmosphere and seeing my buddies again. I didn’t think, I was just letting loose,’ he shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling very small indeed.

'You forgot to think about your entire family?? Try checking your phone once in a while! That’s what it’s for, asshole!’ You slammed the heel of your palm against your forehead in a motion supposed to express how plain stupid he had been.

'Hey, you don’t get to talk to me like that! I made a mistake and I’m sorry you’ve had a shit day but stop acting like this is something I do all the time.  _Ooh Big Bad Chris, having a few beers and watching the game with his friends, what a dick_. Get over yourself, it’s not like I go out for fun anymore, is it?’ He knew what he was saying was going to upset you but in the moment, he couldn’t stop himself.

Your brow flew up at that and a noise of indignation left your throat, 'Feeling brave a few beers in, are we? I didn’t realise you were so disappointed with the way your life had turned out! Apologies that we’re not  _fun_  enough for you,’ cold sarcasm dripped from every word, even as you felt tears pricking your eyes.

'I have never had a problem with you going out and enjoying yourself, we’ve always supported each other and our need for time to just be adults. That isn’t the problem here. The problem is you told me you were going to be home four hours before you actually were and I couldn’t get hold of you. I really, really needed you today. I sat in the utility hiding with Dodger, that’s how bad it’s been,’ you gestured wildly as you tried to make him understand how you were feeling, without making him think you were being a naggy wife, begrudging his time with his friends.

You downed the last of your wine from the glass before placing it in the dishwasher. There was anything left to say.

'I’m going to sleep in Freya’s bed tonight, in case Grace needs me,’ you told him, wearily.

'I’ll do it,’ Chris offered quietly, 'I’ll sleep in Grace’s room.’

You waved a hand in the air dismissively, too exhausted to fight any more, 'Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow.’

And you brushed past him, heading towards the stairs, dragging your feet with every step, for a night in your shared bed alone. You didn’t look back at him.

***

You awoke sometime in the night. Everywhere was dark and silent and cold. Groggily and with a dull pounding behind your eyes, you reached out for Chris and found his side of the bed empty. Momentarily confused, your gaze shifted to the bathroom to see if the light was on, before remembering your argument the previous night.

You thrust yourself backwards into the pillows, threading your fingers into your hair and letting out a long sigh. You still felt that stomach churning frustration in the pit of your stomach. You knew that at least a tiny bit of your anger was caused by just not being able to get everything under control yesterday but you were also hurt by Chris’ behaviour, both during the day and the things he’d said when he came home.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Chris had always been completely devoted to you and the kids, and even when he’d still been working on movies as an actor and doing all the press, he’d never once been unreachable. He’d always dropped everything at a moment’s notice if you needed him.

But now it seemed there’d been some deep rooted resentment building up. Did he really regret his life now? Did he wish he’d waited longer for a family? Did he wish he had less kids? No kids even? Did he miss those days when he was shackle free?

You sat up and swung your legs over the side knowing that sleep wasn’t going to come easy now you had all these disturbing thoughts running through your head. Checking the time on your phone, you saw it was two in the morning.

Creeping through the hall, you checked on Connor and Freya, who were both fast asleep. Freya was curled up quite happily in her 'sleepover’ bed, her second favourite stuffed dog cuddly toy tucked under her chin. Connor was, thankfully, sleeping too, his dose of Nurofen before bed working its magic on his poor gums.

Mason was out too when you popped your head into his room and that just left Grace. You pushed the door gently ajar, just enough to stick your head around and, in the slice of light from the hall, saw that Grace was asleep. The bucket next to her seemed to be empty and, placing a cool hand gently on her forehead, you thought that her fever might have dropped slightly.

Glancing over, you could make out Chris’ large form under the covers of Freya’s twin bed but were surprised when he whipped his head around to face you.

'Ev'rythin’ okay?’ he asked, voice thick with drowsiness.

'Yeah, just checking on Grace. She been all right?’

'She chucked up once more at about eleven but she was fast asleep again by the time I’d rinsed out her bucket and brought it back and she’s not stirred since then. If nothing else, the rate of vomit seems to be slowing down.’

You stayed glued to the spot, not trusting yourself to even take one step towards him.

'You not slept at all?’

'Struggling to drift off.’

Then there was silence between you, the power of what you weren’t saying hanging in the air, suffocating you.

'Okay then,’ you started weakly, 'as long as she’s okay, I’ll go back to bed.’

You turned to leave the room and you told yourself that you were going slowly so you didn’t wake Gracie, not to give Chris time to call you back.

Just as you reached the door, you heard a soft yet gruff voice say your name. You turned your head towards him, one hand wrapped around the depth of the door.

'Hmm?’ you replied, letting him know you had heard. He was on his back, propped up on his elbows, one eye squinting towards the light, towards you.

'Sweetheart… I didn’t mean it, what I said. About not having fun anymore. I love all of you so much it scares me sometimes. I don’t know how it’s possible to have this much inside me, but I do. And I had fun today, I won’t lie about it, but I’d never trade what we have here for going back to how my life was in my twenties, not in a million years. My life now… this is the life I’d always dreamed of, the life I was made to live, and it’s the best life - the very best.’

'I know,’ you said simply, and you did know. You knew it was true, every word. You’d known it all along, but it didn’t change the hurt those words had planted in your very core the moment he’d spoken them. 'Let me know if you need me. For Grace or anything.’

And for the second time that night, you went to your bed alone.

***

When you awoke again, it was still dark and it took you a moment to register that you had woken because your bed was being jostled about a bit. Chris.

'Look baby, I can’t fuckin’ sleep in there without you. Grace hasn’t been sick for six hours now and I can’t sleep knowing you’re in here and mad at me. What happened to never going to bed angry? I’m sorry I was an asshole from beginning to end yesterday. I promise to never put you in a position like that again,’ Chris was already under the covers and you hated to admit that your body did relax knowing he was next to you again.

You rolled on to your other side to face him, careful to leave a foot of space between you, tucking one of your hands under your cheek on the pillow.

'I just felt, for the first time really, completely alone and thoroughly outnumbered. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but there are more kids than us in this house and when they’re all having a bad day, they really are a force to be reckoned with. I was counting down the minutes until you were due home and then you weren’t here. You’ve never let me down like that. Ever.’ In the darkness, you felt, rather than saw, Chris wince at that.

'Even when you were off around the world doing the last of the Marvel stuff, and Mason was only a baby. He’d been up crying all night and I couldn’t for the life of me work out what he needed. I called you, sobbing, knowing full well there was nothing you could do from where you were, but you’d sent Scott around within the hour, in the middle of the night, and your mom and Carly arrived the next day because you’d called them and arranged their flights. Do you remember? Even on the other side of the world, you were fixing things for me.’

'And today, I didn’t have my fixer, and I realised that when the going gets tough, I can’t do it by myself! Which is a very scary thought for a mom of four kids all still in single figure ages.’

Chris reached out for your hand under the covers and you let him encase it with his large, warm fingers.

'Don’t you dare doubt your abilities for one second. You are an outstanding mother. They were an especially difficult handful today and you didn’t have your back up, which is entirely my fault.’

'I’m sorry I called you an asshole and implied that you’re dumb,’ you whispered into the darkness. You could feel his thumb tracing slow, swirly patterns on the skin of your hand.

He let out a small bark of a laugh at that comment, 'I’ve had worse flung at me, I promise.’

There was a pause, a moment of contemplation as two adults navigated their way around the argument. Both had apologised and there was no more to be done but the tension still simmered under the surface.

'We good?’ Chris asked, tentative and hopeful.

'We will be,’ you reassured him, 'just give me a few hours to sleep it off.’

Neither of you made any move to get closer, you remained simply linked by your hands, appreciating the delicate truce that had been called. Chris was right, you broke rule number one of being married: you should never have gone to bed angry at each other. But, you’d fixed that part now and both of you fell to sleep, your hands still clasped. It wasn’t the easiest of sleeps but it was better, at least, than it had been before.


	7. Outnumbered (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW: This chapter gives the work its explicit rating.

The next morning, you awoke fairly late after the patchy sleep you’d had during the night. Even so, this was unusual for you since the kids didn’t tend to sleep in. The bed was empty apart from you but Chris’ side still had that tell tale warmth that indicated he hadn’t been gone long.

You still felt exhausted from the stress of yesterday and its ensuing argument, Chris’ words niggling in the back of your mind as you hauled yourself upright and threw your legs over the side of the mattress, planting your feet on the soft carpet. Your eyes were heavy and the groggy fog of lack of sleep swirled around you.

Part of you didn’t want to go downstairs at all, wanted to leave Chris with the kids and hide upstairs all day, just for an opportunity to regain some semblance of sanity. But, you knew that eventually one or two or all of them would come looking for you. So after a quick visit to the bathroom, you pulled your thin robe over your short pyjama set and padded down the staircase, fluffy slippers adorning your feet. 

And what you saw downstairs in the kitchen surprised you a little, it was true. The kids were sat at the breakfast table, each on a stool apart from Connor who was in his high chair, watching intently and with amusement, their father flipping Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes across the kitchen island, applauding and laughing when he managed it. All turned to look at you as you entered.

‘Morning Momma!’ Freya was the first to call out. ‘Daddy’s making us pancakes!’

‘I can see!’ You answered her back animatedly. You continued over to him and, with a hand gently and tentatively resting on his lower back, spoke quietly in his ear. ‘It’s been a long time since you did this.’

He at least had the decency to look a little sheepish as he admitted, ‘I think I’ve probably got some making up to do today.’

You tilted your chin upwards in acknowledgement just as Grace called out to you, ‘Sit down with us mom, you can have pancakes too!’

‘Should you be eating pancakes this morning baby?’ You referred to her sickness bug from the previous day. Moving over to her, you placed a hand on her forehead, judging her temperature. 

'I feel better today,’ she assured you desperately, not wanting to miss out on pancakes.

'Hmm, your temperature has come down and you’ve got some colour back in your face. Are you sure you haven’t felt sick this morning?’

'I’m sure! Promise!’

'Okay then, but go easy. Have a banana first.’

Grace obediently hopped down from her stool to retrieve a banana from the fruit bowl as you sat down on the spare stool, bemusedly watching the elaborate performance Chris was putting on for the kids and feeling the tension that had been plaguing you ebbing away somewhat. How could you stay angry at him when he was wearing a chef’s hat and an apron that had 'No. 1 Grillmaster’ on it? He had been born to be a father and he was excellent at it. No one could look at him now and think he regretted his family.

The kids watched the show and each time a pancake was successful, he placed it in the warming drawer of the oven and when he’d used up all the batter, he served them on to plates and laid all manner of fruit, yoghurt and syrup accompaniments on the island so that the children could help themselves.

You all sat down to eat together, Chris chopping up Connor’s pancakes and fruit on his high chair tray so that he could enthusiastically eat his breakfast with his fingers. As the kids chatted happily, you couldn’t help but feel a little… cynical really. All of yesterday’s chaos seemed to have vanished and there was a tiny part of you that resented how easy he made it look, how it made everything that happened yesterday seem completely trivial.

Part way through, Mason piped up, 'Dad, can we tell mom about her surprise?’

You raised an eyebrow and looked at Chris quickly, 'Surprise?’

Chris just gave you a small, and, what you interpreted as an ever-so-slightly smug smile, 'If you want to, go ahead buddy.’

'So, after breakfast today, Dad said we can go bowling but we thought that you might like some relax time so you’re going to the spa. I heard Dad on the phone this morning and he’s booked you some treatments!’ Mason was clearly excited about bowling, having seemingly forgotten his feelings of being left out from yesterday.

'I’m going on a spa afternoon? And you’re all going bowling together?’ You indicated to the five of them with your index finger. Five identical smiling nods bobbed in front of you.

'Right,’ you tried to keep your voice light as you wiped your hands on a napkin and laid your knife and fork atop your empty plate, 'I better go and get ready then.’

You pushed your chair back, turned on your heel and left without another word, fleeing upstairs where you could be frustrated in private. 

But, it wasn’t to be. Chris followed you shortly after, having picked up on your frosty attitude.

'Babe, help me out here, is there something going on? You seem…not happy with anything this morning. Did you want to come bowling with us? I thought you would have liked a few hours to yourself today.’

You were pacing the bedroom, getting more and more worked up as you went, fists clenched at your sides. 

And then it all came tumbling out of your mouth in a torrent that you just couldn’t halt.

'It’s just so easy for you, isn’t it?! You make them some pancakes, take them out for the day, keep them happily entertained for an afternoon. Being Dad is easy peasy.’

'I’m always the moody, stressed out one that’s snapping at them because I’m dealing with the day to day shit. All their bickering, the days when they’re naughty, their strops, their illnesses, their grumpiness when they’ve not slept well, the school runs, the lunches, the laundry. I basically _work_ for them, and you just get to swan in and do the fun stuff.’

'It’s like everything I go through everyday, trying to raise four kids, is just trivial when you’re around, because you don’t see it. You had four perfect little cherubs sat in front of you this morning. You came in last night and a couple of words from you had them all sorted and tucked in bed asleep after I’d been trying to do the same thing, without success, for a solid hour.’

'I feel like - like - like a _maid_ in this house more than a mom or a wife!’

You sat on the edge of the bed as you finished your tirade, worn out from letting go of all the bottled up frustration. 

Chris was still and silent for a moment, probably trying to process what he’d just heard, before slowly sitting down next to you.

'I… had no idea you felt that way,’ he admitted quietly. 

You didn’t know what to say to that without causing an argument, so you stayed quiet. 

'I’m sorry that I’ve unknowingly contributed to this,’ he continued, 'I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought we all needed some cheering up today.’

'It’s not just today, Chris,’ you told him wearily, 'Whether we meant to or not, we’ve somehow stopped being a parenting team and fallen into the trap of being good cop and bad cop.’

His hand snaked to yours, clasping it firmly, 'I guess I thought you had it all covered. You’re so good at being a mom that the more kids we added to the family, the less you needed me to fix things, because we’d done it all before.’

You shook your head violently, 'No, I don’t need things fixing all the time, but I still need your support, and not just when they’re being little angels.’

Chris went into solving mode, 'So how do we get back on track then? What’s the solution? Do I need to work less now? Projects that are closer to home and that take me away less?’

You shook your head, 'I’ve never wanted you to sacrifice your career for us.’

'Baby, it’s not a sacrifice. This is our family we’re talking about. Number one priority.

But you think you knew what the solution was. It wasn’t the family or the kids that were the problem, it was you.

'I actually think it’s me that needs to make a change,’ you began, and Chris squeezed your hand tighter, 'I think I need to go back to work. When we go back to LA after the summer.’

You could see the cogs turning in the expression on Chris’ face and he began nodding slowly, 'It makes sense. Connor’s in nursery now, the rest are in school. We can get a nanny. I can cut back a bit so there’s more wiggle room in our schedules….’

'I think I just need that little bit of my identity back and I would have gone back earlier, except we kept having more kids and it never seemed the right time.’

'Sweetheart, if this is what you want to do, then I’m on board one hundred per cent. You want to go back to Victoria’s Secret?’

You nodded, 'I’ve kept my contacts there. I’m not sure in what capacity they’ll have me back as a model, but I’m still relevant enough, thanks to my Hollywood husband,’ you nudged him with your shoulder, 'to be able to launch my own underwear line in collaboration if I wanted. There’s ambassador roles too, presenting roles, there’s a lot of stuff I could turn my hand to. My walking days might be over but photo shoots and catalogues will probably still be open to me.’

'Babe, you’re hot as hell, if you wanted to walk, I think they’d put you on that runway before you could blink. You can do anything you want. Call them tomorrow and get some meetings set up for when we’re back in LA. I’ll start putting the feelers out for childcare and I’ll talk with my lot about what the next couple of years are going to look like for me.’

You felt like a huge weight had been lifted from your shoulders and you leant into him.

'Thank you,’ you whispered.

'There’s nothing to thank me for. I just wish I’d picked up on this.’

'You’re not a mind reader, Chris. And I think I’ve only truly realised it myself in the last couple of days,’ you tilted your head to look up at him from where you were cradled against his shoulder and he smiled down at you before pressing his lips to yours, both of you lighter and happier now the air had been cleared and you had a plan in place. 

Just then, a loud crash that made you jump followed by a raucous laughter was heard from downstairs. 

'Jesus, what have they done now?’ you smiled against his mouth.

'I’ll go and sort them out. I’ll do my best to be bad cop,’ he gave your hand a final squeeze before standing up from the bed, 'So did you want to go to the spa or did you want to come bowling?’

'Are you joking? Babe, they are all yours today. I literally can’t wait to be lay down in silence with a hot, young, shirtless man rubbing oil into my skin,’ you grinned at him as you headed towards the bathroom.

'Damnit, I should have thought this through,’ Chris joked as he left, but lifted the hem of his shirt up as he backed out of the room to show his still-impressive abs, raising one eyebrow in question, 'Hotter than this?’

'Tease. You know I can’t do anything about it now,’ the loud laughter of your children was still ringing through the house.

'Later,’ he promised in a whisper with a wink before fleeing the room to go and assess the situation downstairs. 

You smiled to yourself as you climbed into the shower, his promise dancing around your mind.

***

The spa had been blissful and just what you needed after the emotional rollercoaster of yesterday and that morning. You felt rejuvenated and positive as you climbed in your car to drive yourself home, ready to get home and spend an evening with your husband and your children. It was a warm evening and, with Chris’ 'No. 1 Grillmaster’ apron still in mind, you thought getting Chris to fire up the outdoor grill on the patio would be the best way to finish off the weekend. 

But when you stepped through the front door, it seemed extraordinarily quiet in the house. Thinking the kids and Chris might be outside, you walked through to the kitchen to check the garden out of the back doors. You found, however, Chris in the kitchen by himself, sautéing something in a pan over the stove and, looking out of the floor to ceiling bi-fold doors, you could see there were no children in the back yard. Where were they?

'Hey sweetheart,’ you greeted him, confusion filtering through your voice as you approached him. You were close enough now to see the chicken pieces he was manoeuvring around the heavy-bottomed pan. There was a pot of spaghetti bubbling away on the back of the stove too. 

'Hey baby,’ he pulled you towards his side, free arm that wasn’t cooking chicken wrapping around your shoulders. He planted a kiss on your forehead as you slid a hand across his back, the other resting against his chest, 'I didn’t hear you come in.’

'Did you have a good day? Did you leave the kids at the bowling alley?’ you joked.

'I was close, but no, I brought them all home in one piece,’ he smirked back.

'Oh.’ you were no closer to finding out what was going on, 'So where are they? It’s unnervingly quiet here.’

'Well, after bowling, we came back and packed up some overnight things and now they’re all at my mom’s,’ he announced casually, still moving chicken around the pan. 

'All of them?’ you clarified, pulling back a little to look at his face and check he wasn’t joking. 'There are no kids in this house?’

'Nope,’ he popped the P, clearly proud of himself, 'Not a single child. All night.’

'And you’re cooking? For us?’ Hope and excitement filled your voice.

'Yep. It’s just carbonara but I figured we needed some fuel food to keep us going.’

You knew where he was going with this but decided to play dumb as you innocently enquired, 'Keep us going at what?’

He pulled his attention away from his cooking then , grinning cheekily, 'Just you wait, Mrs Evans. Now go and sit at the table in the dining room while I plate this up. The sooner we eat, the sooner I can get you naked for the best make up sex you’ve ever had in your life.’

***

The food had been delicious, and Chris had laid the table so that you were seated next to each other on a corner. He’d set out flowers and candles and he ate with one hand resting on your thigh. Occasionally, he would lean in close and tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear or use his thumb to wipe away a spot of creamy sauce from the corner of your mouth, but he was in constant contact with you throughout the meal.

Chris was, it had to be said, always incredibly tactile but at this moment in particular, his touches were just an extended round of foreplay. The atmosphere was tense, but not like it had been yesterday and this morning. The air was filled with anticipation. Excitement bubbled in your lower belly as you ate and touched and chatted and flirted. 

When you had finished, Chris carried out the plates and the cutlery back to the kitchen, determined you weren’t going to do a single thing, but you followed him out quietly and wrapped your arms around his middle, your front flush against his back, as he stacked the items on the counter near the sink. 

'Thank you,’ you mumbled into his back. You could smell the light scent of his cologne through the soft material of his shirt.

He turned around in your arms, lifting them up by the wrists to wrap around his neck. His own hands gripped your hips and pulled you gently to him as he leaned against the counter. 

'You’re more than welcome,’ he drew his face close to yours, mouth hovering only an inch from your lips as he spoke, before closing the gap between you. Your fingers creeped up the back of his neck and into his hair, keeping him pressed to you, as you kissed him fiercely, pouring all of the emotion of the last couple of days into it.

His tongue swept your bottom lip lightly and his hands began to wander over the material of the snug tshirt dress you wore, caressing your lower back and down to cup your backside, all the while his lips covering yours in a perfect fit.

It wasn’t long before his fingers began to tug the material of your dress upwards to reveal the skin of your upper thighs and your ass and his mouth began to pepper kisses down your neck.

You sneaked your own fingers under the hem of his shirt and ran them lightly over his back and around to his ribs as he left hot, open mouthed kisses just under your ear, the sensation sending tingles down your spine.

Your hands went up and up until his got the idea and pulled back to reach behind and remove his shirt over his head with one hand.

'Better?’ he grinned as you ran your fingers up and over his defined chest. 

'Much.’

You hooked a hand around his neck and pulled his mouth back to yours, arching your back into him and pressing your hips to his as you went.

He walked you backwards until you bumped the kitchen island behind you and he pinned you there with his hips, his hands gripping the edge of the counter, your hands gripping his biceps. You could feel your body temperature rising rapidly and you still had all your clothing on. 

When his fingers went back to your lower half, running a pattern from your ass to your back to your hips, you decided you just wanted it all gone now.

'Take it off,’ you demanded against Chris’ mouth, 'All of it.’

'Yes ma'am,’ he cheekily saluted before shimmying his hands under the material of your dress and sliding it up and up before tugging it over your head. You shook your hair out, feeling freer, and Chris instantly dropped to his knees, running his mouth and nose along the lace of your panties from hip to hip, teasing you. His palms gripped your hips, keeping you firmly in place as his mouth finally dipped lower, spreading heat through your core. 

He hooked his index fingers in either side of the lace and pulled the material down, past your knees and then lifted up each leg by the ankle so he could unhook them from your feet, cool air hitting where you had been so warm and wet. 

Chris nudged your knees further apart to give himself better access and ran one teasing finger from your clit to your entrance and back again, spreading your wetness with it. Circling your clit once, twice, he then went lower, dipping a finger into your heat and back out again, setting up a maddening circuit. He gazed at you, fascinated, watching his finger trail from place to place, building your pleasure every time he passed Go. 

You threaded your fingers into his hair and closed your eyes, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth as you focused on Chris’ ministrations and the coil slowly unraveling low in your abdomen. Eventually, he added a second finger inside you and set up a lazy, pulsing rhythm, changing the angle of penetration ever so slightly each time, building the sensation, hitting different nerve endings with each slide. 

Your breath was hitching in gasps and when his mouth closed over your clit, you barely needed three swirls of his tongue before your legs were shaking and you were clamping involuntarily around his fingers.

'Oh, I wish I hadn’t waited until the last second to put my mouth on you. I want to taste you some more.’

You were still catching your breath, your muscles still pulsing around the fingers inside you when he withdrew from you quickly, stood up and lifted you up by the hips so that your bare ass landed on the cool surface of the counter. He pushed you back so that the V of your legs was level with his mouth when he leaned over and, cupping your ass with his hands to tilt your hips towards him, his mouth was on you again, this time mercilessly fast.

'Chris - I can’t - I’ve only just -’ you tried to sit up but your jelly-like muscles wouldn’t comply.

'You can baby, you can come for me again,’ the reverberations of his voice rumbled through your centre, igniting the beginnings of a new flame inside you, and then he was back, sucking, kissing, swirling, probing with his tongue like his life depended on it. His beard only added to the pleasure, tickling your sensitive flesh wherever his mouth went. Your feet scrabbled against the edge of the counter, trying to find purchase to propel your hips even closer to his mouth but he simply hooked your knees over his shoulders and held your thighs firmly with his hands. You were captive as he teased your second orgasm to the surface. 

After you’d already felt his fingers inside you, though, you just wanted that feeling of being full again and, not wanting to come without it, used all your core strength to pull yourself up, place a hand on each side of Chris’ head and tilt his face up to you. It was a battle of wills but you were going to win this one. 

'Get those pants off now. I don’t want to come again unless you’re inside me.’

He nodded and stood, unbuckling his belt, popping the button and pulling trousers and snug boxers off in one smooth motion. You moved to the edge of the counter and hopped down in front of him, wrapping your hand around his cock and pumping it gently a few times, before turning around so your back was to him. 

He knew instantly what you wanted and brought his hips to your ass, pinning you again between him and the counter. He swept all of your hair over to one side, running kisses up and down your exposed neck and shoulders, using a knee to nudge one leg then the other so he could snake a hand between your bodies and guide his sensitive head through your heat, coating himself in the aftermath of your first orgasm. 

'You want to go hard or slow for this one?’ He spoke into your ear, low and gravelly.

You barely recognised your own voice when you replied. _The things he did to you._

'We’ve got all night to go slow. For this one, I want you to fuck me into next week. I want to be sore tomorrow and know that you did that, right here against the kitchen counter.’

He sucked in a breath at that, 'Jesus baby, you’re killing me here.’

His hips had set up a slight thrust against your ass and his head glided across your clit. You knew that if you closed your legs, clamping him with your inner thighs, you could make him come in barely any time at all and you could watch him spurt white and glistening all over your thighs. But maybe later. Right now, you really needed him inside you as soon as possible. 

A hand at your mid back told you that you were about to get what you wanted as Chris snapped open the clasp of your bra and let the straps fall off your shoulders. You threw the garment away and let out an excited giggle as he applied enough pressure to your shoulder to bend your compliant body forward until your breasts were pressed into the cold counter, the feeling against your nipples a shock to the system after being so warm everywhere else.

'You won’t be giggling in a second if I have anything to do with it,’ his voice was practically a growl at this point; you knew how much he loved taking you in this position. You felt him pull back slightly, a hand ghosting over the skin of your hips and backside, and you knew he was taking a moment to admire your ass. You gave your hips a gratuitous wiggle, just for him, and encouraged him to hurry up.

'Please baby, don’t leave me hanging.’

'Just another second while I ogle my beautiful wife’s backside.’

You felt his lips against one ass cheek and then the other before he positioned himself, lining himself up at your slick entrance, circling with his tip and teasing you. 

Then, without warning, Chris sheathed himself fully in one swift movement, pressing you into the counter and shunting your body forward, nipples dragging on the counter. Your mouth dropped open, eyes scrunched closed, and the two of groaned in unison. This is what you had wanted, the feeling of him filling you completely. 

He let you adjust for a second or two and then set up his pace: fast and relentless, pounding away, hitting you with his cock deep inside with each thrust. You could feel him jutting his hips out towards you, arching his back away to get a better view and, in your mind’s eye, you could see what he was looking at. You could imagine Chris looking down at your legs and ass spread wide, your back straight at ninety degrees, his dick disappearing into you over and over again and coming out each time even wetter than before. 

It didn’t take long before you could feel your body climbing towards orgasm and you clawed at the counter, your fingers finding nothing to grip on to against the smooth surface and having to make do with splaying out wide on the granite. You kept your legs as straight as possible, the angle helping Chris hit your g-spot each time. His rhythm was faltering slightly, favouring speed over elegance, and you knew he was close to the edge, your own climax just beginning to unfurl, but you wanted, more than anything, to topple over into ecstasy with him simultaneously.

'Chris - baby - touch me, please,’ you all but sobbed, feeling wanton and vulnerable but absolutely safe with your husband. He knew what you needed and he reached around, thrusts never letting up, to press two fingers against your clit, sliding against it, soaked as you were. 

Your muscles tensed, your body preparing itself to shatter, and then you were both there, a high pitched keening leaving you and a deep guttural moan leaving Chris, explosions of nerve endings everywhere. You felt him collapse against you, one arm wrapping under your body and around your hips as he still thrust shallowly, almost animalistic, against you, milking everything he had into you, as he had done many times before, your body receiving it gladly as you came down from glorious heights.

You don’t know how long you lay there, spent and wrungG out, as Chris peppered kisses across your back but he eventually withdrew, sliding out of you with ease. He pulled you up to standing and hooked an arm under your knees, your own arms instinctively winding around his neck. 

You planted kisses along his jaw as he walked through the house, towards the stairs, admiring his flushed cheeks and knowing that you were the reason. He would glance down and give you a smile and a shake of the head every so often but mainly he focused on putting one foot in front of the other. 

'What are you shaking your head at?’ you fished for information, wanting to know what was going on inside his head. 

'You know how people think it’s so adorable that penguins and seahorses mate for life, mainly because it happens so infrequently among humans?’ Chris explained as he lay you gently atop the bed sheets in your bedroom. You simply nodded in reply.

'I was just thinking - you are definitely my penguin. Like, I’m really sorry, but you’re stuck with me for life,’ he lay down next to you, pulling your naked body to his, not able to get close enough it seemed.

You laughed, sated and euphoric, nuzzling into his neck, letting his beard scratch your skin, 'Only you would be thinking about penguins at a time like this. But I take your point. I think you’re right Evans, I think we are penguins, or seahorses, we’re together forever, 'til death do us part, I’m with you until the end-’

'You dare finish that quote and you can wave goodbye to any more orgasms tonight.’

You pretended to zip your lips, lock them and throw away the key and Chris nodded at your, in his opinion, good decision making, laying back against the pillows and closing his eyes while your fingertips swirled on his chest. 

'Chris?’

'Hmm?’ he sounded sleepy.

'I hate fighting with you but I fucking love having make up sex with you.’

He lifted his head from the pillow, grinning smugly, 'I know, right? But babe, do you mind if we have a nap before round two? I’m not as young as I used to be.’

'Literally, nothing would make me happier. I’ll wake you up in a little while. Probably with your dick in my mouth, if you like.’

'Jesus. Yes, yes I would like. Very much.’

You threw your leg over his hip, your bodies pressed together, and pressed a kiss to his collarbone before letting your eyes drift shut.


End file.
